


la spécialite du chef

by endlesshydrangea (bloominsummer)



Series: kiss me under the mistletoe 2020 [11]
Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (Not Entirely) Unresolved Sexual Tension, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chef Seokmin, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Recording sex, photographer soonyoung
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27904801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloominsummer/pseuds/endlesshydrangea
Summary: Attempting to tame his desire, he swallows the lump in his throat. They’re not here for this purpose and it would be an entirely unprofessional move on Seokmin’s part to continue walking down this path. His kitchen is a sacred place to him—it’s his altar of creation. As much as he wants to, he can’t fuck Soonyoung against the service counter.That’d be a blasphemous act.
Relationships: Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Seokmin | DK
Series: kiss me under the mistletoe 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2042560
Comments: 7
Kudos: 95





	la spécialite du chef

**Author's Note:**

> prompt by & written for @seokminated. thank you for this! I really had fun writing them honestly, hope you enjoy the adventure <33 
> 
> premise for the story is this [post](https://twitter.com/xiaochanggeng/status/1316745533776564231?s=20) which is truly something. and also this [compilation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjuYVi_czjo) of seokmin grilling beef while soonyoung calls him sexy for it in the background, zooming in and out of his biceps…
> 
> look the camera work in the gose episode is just professional ok

At the tender age of 5, Seokmin firmly decided that he wanted to become a chef. He has always seen it as an honourable act, preparing with one’s hands what is fuel for another to thrive.

Coming to where he is at the moment wasn’t an easy feat by any means. Seokmin put in the blood, sweat, and tears into achieving his dream. His parents didn’t see eye-to-eye with him regarding his career choice, and their disagreement led him having to work multiple part-time jobs to put himself through culinary school. Hospitality placements, mostly.

Plus, he wasn’t one of those students who was naturally apt in everything they do. Seokmin struggled and struggled and then struggled some more, though he did come out of the battle victorious.

Now he’s a year away from 30 with two restaurants in his name, both in the central district of the city. Technically they aren’t _his_ , since Seokmin had accepted the generous offer of an financier who wanted to bankroll his business, but he’d get there eventually. Slow progress is still progress, and Seokmin is nothing if not determined.

His parents have warmed up to him in recent years, too. Although he knows it’s likely a byproduct of his broadcasted success, Seokmin learns to forgive them little by little anyway. All in all, everything in his life is _mise en place_.

Until Kwon Soonyoung.

Seokmin has always wanted to be a chef, until Kwon Soonyoung walks through the door of his restaurant with a bag his photography paraphernalia slung over one shoulder. Suddenly Seokmin wishes he’d go down the path of becoming a model instead, if it meant being the sole object of Kwon Soonyoung’s affection for what short duration of time they have together.

It’s an incredibly silly thought to have. Considering he’s here today to take pictures and videos of Seokmin’s cuisine, product photography is clearly more of his field of choice than fashion. Seokmin's less likely to meet him if he alters his occupation. 

“Hey,” Kwon Soonyoung extends a hand out for Seokmin to shake. “I’m Kwon Soonyoung.”

He has a steady grip, Seokmin thinks. His fingers are pretty. “Yes, Soonyoung-ssi. Thank you for coming. I’m—”

“Oh, please,” Soonyoung cuts him off with a small grin. If any other person had done that, Seokmin might feel offended, but Soonyoung’s smile is simply too alluring for him to feel anything but attraction. “I think it's best if we put aside the formality for what we’re about to do. Just Soonyoung is fine. And I know who you are! Who doesn’t?”

“Right,” says Seokmin. He looks away for a moment, trying to hide the fact that he’s rather pleased by what Soonyoung said. “Then we should get right to it. Please follow me.”

When Seungcheol first informed him he’s arranged for their restaurant to be featured in a food magazine, Seokmin had thought it was simply unnecessary. He’s old-fashioned in this way; he believes that when the food is good, news about the hands that create it will travel through word of mouth. But Seungcheol had insisted on it, and his status as the owner of the restaurant leaves Seokmin little wiggle room to refuse his request.

He leads Soonyoung to the kitchen, where a special bench that has been newly polished until it completely reflects light awaits them. Seokmin gestures to the extra table on the side, this one prepared for Soonyoung to set up his equipment. Soonyoung goes to work with a smile on his face, efficient and methodical. That _smile,_ Seokmin wishes he can have it pressed against his mouth.

“Is there just the two of us?” asks Soonyoung, curious.

“My sous-chef is supposed to be here, just in case an overhead light falls on me or something.” He gets a chuckle for that little quip and his chest puffs out with pride knowing Soonyoung share his sense of humour. “But he has a family and a young daughter at that. I feel bad for taking away precious time from them.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods once in understanding, “It’s only been a couple of days since we popped the champagne and make our little new year's resolutions, hasn’t it?”

“I’m really sorry about the timing.” Seokmin feels the need to apologise to him, too. He might also be taking precious time away from Soonyoung, after all. “You probably have something better to do this time of the year.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem at all. It’s not like I have a toddler waiting for me back home. There's just me and about twelve Netflix shows to binge-watch.” He adjusts his lenses and turns on his camera, the battery light blinking green to indicate its status. “You’re actually doing me a favour here.”

“How so?”

"I have separation anxiety with this baby,” he lifts his camera to make his point, "A total workaholic."

Seokmin chuckles. “Aren’t we all?”

The photographer finishes his preparation and looks up at Seokmin through his lashes—which are short, but nonetheless appealing. “Shall we?”

“Yes.”

Soonyoung comes to stand at his side and gesticulates for Seokmin to continue. “Just do what you usually do and pretend that I’m not here. Any externalisation of inner monologues are welcome, but if you prefer silence that’s perfectly fine. And, uh… try not to be alarmed by what I do.”

Turning on the stove, Seokmin ponders over what Soonyoung means by his last sentence. He can ask Soonyoung to clarify his words, of course, but the last thing Seokmin wants to do is appear clueless in front of him. That will definitely chip away at the credibility his chef persona seems to have in Soonyoung’s eyes. So Seokmin retrieves two sauté pans of different sizes and a plate from the cabinet beneath the bench, deciding to put aside his questions for now.

He glances at Soonyoung one more time before he starts. Soonyoung has half of his face hidden behind his camera, fingers toying with the mode dial. Seokmin waits until he gets Soonyoung’s go signal before he proceeds.

“We’re doing pan-seared duck breast today.” Okay, this is weird. This is exactly why Seokmin’s been adamant in his refusal of making appearances on TV. Who talks out loud when they’re cooking? To themselves, at that. “The breast slices have been pre-seasoned. Salt and pepper as usual…” he hears the shutter clicking repeatedly. “And I also used juniper berries, caraway seeds and allspice.”

The air shifts when Soonyoung moves closer, now standing a mere foot away to Seokmin’s left. His presence calls for attention, which means Seokmin has to try harder to maintain focus.

“Skin side down, we let the duck breasts sit above the pan for five minutes or so. Medium-low heat’s best to render the fat.”

“What about the smaller pan?” Soonyoung’s breath tickles the side of his neck, making Seokmin’s hair on the back of his neck rise. He’s still taking pictures, completely immersed in the work he’s doing. “Do we use that for the sauce?”

“Not quite,” he corrects Soonyoung gently. “We use this to press down on the breasts. It keeps the edges from curling up, you see?”

“I see.”

The silence blankets them once more, making Seokmin think that he should have chosen another recipe with less waiting time in between the steps involved. He didn't want to do anything extravagant and Seungcheol had signed off on his dish choice, but he supposes the pauses can be slightly awkward for Soonyoung.

Before he can open his mouth to attempt small-talk, Soonyoung moves to stand right behind him. His arm comes around Seokmin’s neck, wrist only an inch away from his Adam’s apple. The camera is right beside his face, angled down at the pan in front of him.

Seokmin’s slightly taller than him, which means Soonyoung must be leaning up a little to get a good angle. “Should I bend down a bit?” he asksin consideration, trying to make things easier for Soonyoung despite the photographer making a great many things harder for Seokmin.

“No, you’re fine.”

Fuck. That’s certainly Soonyoung’s mouth brushing the shell of his ear. Soft, plump, and extremely kissable.

Seokmin can’t shiver. Seokmin can’t shiver, because Soonyoung’s front is basically pressed flush against his back and the photographer will notice his reaction in no time, with no effort necessary. Seokmin _can’t—_

Seokmin shivers.

If Soonyoung feels it and has something to say, he keeps his thoughts to himself. He doesn’t move away until the duck skin takes a beautiful golden brown colour and Seokmin’s face is a pale shade of crimson. Soonyoung releases him just as Seokmin turns up the heat, but not without letting his fingers trail the edge of Seokmin’s jaw.

“And now?”

“Now we… turn them over to the flesh side.”

His voice sounds a little more breathy than he would like, so Seokmin clears his throat. Soonyoung lets a small chuckle in return, a brief interlude before he resumes the task at hand. He moves around the room with such grace that Seokmin’s eyes naturally follow his figure wherever he goes. Directly in front of him, to his right, to his left. The photographer seems entirely in his element.

“How do you like your meat?”

“Me?” Soonyoung moves his face away from his viewfinder in search for clarification. Seokmin gives him a light nod. “Medium-rare.” He lifts both eyebrows at his answer, making Soonyoung mouth a _What?_ at him.

“Nothing.”

Truth be told, Soonyoung just seemed like a well-done person to Seokmin. Straight to the point, with no non-sense whatsoever. One of his mentors once told him that people who eat their meat medium-rare are the hardest ones to please. Ten seconds more and you’ll get medium, ten seconds less and you’ll have a tartare in your hands. The old man definitely fancies hyperbole more than an average person, but his point stands.

“To cook it medium rare, it’ll only take another thirty seconds. We can set the duck aside to rest after that.”

“That's a shame.”

“Shame?” he furrows his brow. "And why's that?"

“If I had said well-done, we would be here longer.”

Seokmin lifts his gaze to meet his and Soonyoung’s lips are curled prettily at the edges, the way the chef had tried to stop the duck breasts from behaving earlier. Attempting to tame his desire, he swallows the lump in his throat. They’re not here for this purpose and it would be an entirely unprofessional move on Seokmin’s part to continue walking down this path. His kitchen is a sacred place to him—it’s his altar of creation. As much as he wants to, he can’t fuck Soonyoung against the service counter.

That’d be a blasphemous act.

“Thirty seconds,” Soonyoung’s voice breaks him out of his trance.

He uses the tongs to take the duck breasts from the pan and arrange them above the ceramic plate, Soonyoung taking shots of his plating afterwards.

“For the sauce, we deglaze the pan with wine.” He pours half a cup of dry white wine onto the sauté pan, gripping the handle and turning the pan with one hand, scraping bits of brown from the surface covered by the liquid. “Then we wait for a couple of minutes.”

“Hmm. There’s sure a lot of waiting in this.”

The small voice inside his head tells him Soonyoung might not be talking about cooking entirely.

“Is it boring?”

“Not at all.” Soonyoung stands up straight and looks into Seokmin’s eyes as he answers, “It’s rather exciting. Kinda helps to know that what’s coming is worth the wait.” Good Lord. If Seokmin had to choose an adjective to describe Soonyoung's voice just now, it would be _sultry_.

Seokmin doesn’t say much else from this point on, afraid that his words will outright betray his intention. The sauce gets done in less than fine minutes and Soonyoung asks him to drizzle it over the duck breast, requesting Seokmin to use the smallest spoon he can find to do the job. Seokmin complies with the request, and Soonyoung bends down until he’s at eye-level with the table to take the photographs.

“I think they’ll come out great!” he exclaims excitedly as he looks through the results of their session, throwing Seokmin a triumphant grin that’s incredibly infectious. “You made an excellent choice. Some people opt for complicated recipes and they just fall short in the presentation department. I mean, as expected of the Lee Seokmin.”

“Thank you.” No matter how this night ends, Seokmin makes a mental note to thank Seungcheol for his unyielding stubbornness. The last hour has been a great pleasure for him. “If they do come out great, the credit is all yours.”

“Are you going to give credit where credit is due, then?”

Soonyoung toys with the collar of his shirt, a gesture that helps Seokmin to read between the lines of his inquiry. As Soonyoung’s meaning register with him, Seokmin decides to upgrade his expression of gratitude to Seungcheol from plain words to a bottle of good wine. In his state of bliss Seokmin fails to answer Soonyoung before he reaches for the plate, making Soonyoung let out a small _uh oh_ sound.

“What is it?”

“Usually when I’m being this forward and the other person just straight-up ignores my advances, it means they’re trying to let me down gently.”

“I don’t believe that,” Seokmin returns good-naturedly.

“Don’t believe what?”

“That anyone would ever ignore your advances.”

Soonyoung pauses for a heartbeat, then smiles. “Then what are you doing right now?”

“I’m not a big advocate for takeaway food, nor do I condone having intercourse in the workplace. But…” he walks to the far counter and comes back with a cardboard container, “an exception can be made.”

“For the former or the latter?”

Of course, that’s the question he chooses to ask. What did Seokmin expect? “The former, Soonyoung.”

“What about a kiss, though?” Soonyoung’s looking away now, putting his camera back inside his bag and zipping it up, but Seokmin can see the slight flush creeping up his neck. Who would have guessed that the photographer still has a shy bone in his body? “Is a kiss allowed in the kitchen?”

Seokmin finishes placing the meal into the container and sets the plate back down on the counter before he makes his way to Soonyoung, stopping right in front of him. Soonyoung has his palms against the small table behind him and Seokmin inches closer, leaning down to bump their noses together.

"For the record," Seokmin admits quietly, a confession only meant for Soonyoung's ears alone. "I've never done this before."

"Have your pictures taken at work or kiss one of your fan club member?"

He slots his mouth over Soonyoung’s own as an answer.

The smile forms against his lips and it’s a taste so sweet, it enters Seokmin’s top list of favourite desserts at #1. He nibbles gently at the luscious plumpness, the small ministration causing Soonyoung to let out a satisfied sigh, his hands coming up to grip at Seokmin’s biceps over his chef attire.

“Take me home.” He breathes softly upon separation. “Seokmin.”

His name rolls off Soonyoung’s tongue like it’s his favourite word in the dictionary; eloquent and _reverenced_. Seokmin dives in for another go at those lips before he follows through with Soonyoung’s request, one hand sliding to the small of Soonyoung’s back to pull him impossibly close.

* * *

He has every right to be confused when Soonyoung pulls out his camera _again_ once Seokmin’s sitting fully nude at the edge of his bed, his cock erected at half-mast. The duck is sadly left untouched for the moment; one masterpiece neglected for another of a different kind, but Seokmin’s not about to protest when Soonyoung has been worshipping him as though his body was sculpted by Michelangelo himself.

Soonyoung takes out the memory card from the small slot on the side of the camera and inserts another one in its place.

Then, he hands the camera over to Seokmin.

“What am I supposed to do with…” Soonyoung guides Seokmin’s hands around the black metal frame and presses Seokmin’s thumb over the button with a red dot on it. The screen is taken up entirely by Soonyoung’s face, eyes lidded with passion and lips raw from kissing. His dark hair is a perfect mess, even more so after he runs his fingers through them.

“Make sure it doesn’t fall on my head, okay?” the photographer warns Seokmin playfully, readjusting his grip on the object. “I’d rather pass out from you pounding me into the mattress than a head injury.”

When Soonyoung claimed to be a workaholic, Seokmin didn’t expect _this_.

“You want me to record you?”

“I do,” Soonyoung nods, kissing the soft flesh in the inner of Seokmin’s thigh in coaxing. His skin tingles with the soft friction brought by Soonyoung’s faint stubble dragging across skin. “Your participation in the video with me is entirely voluntary.”

Seokmin stares down at him and reaches down for Soonyoung’s chin. The photographer leans into the touch, sharp teeth coming out to hunt for Seokmin’s fingers that are splayed over his jawbone. He brings the camera closer to Soonyoung’s face, chuckling softly at how playful a lover Soonyoung is, then turns the lens toward himself.

“I hope this gets me extra participation marks.” Seokmin winks to the camera.

“It does,” he hears Soonyoung murmurs, kissing his way from up Seokmin’s thigh to his crotch. "It definitely does."

Before the chef can fully prepare himself for it, Soonyoung’s already applying his wonderful mouth on Seokmin. His tongue trails over the underside, from the base up along his shaft, before he teases Seokmin right beneath the crown of his cock. Merely half a night in together and Soonyoung already knows all of his most sensitive spots.

“That feels good.” It’s hard to keep his eyes open the entire time but Seokmin wants to _look_ at Soonyoung, either directly or through the viewscreen. He has to make sure Soonyoung doesn’t move out of the frame anyway. What's the point of recording this if the art is not captured through the lens? “You make me feel so fucking good.”

Soonyoung pulls away from him with a slick pop, a thin string of saliva connecting his bottom lip with Seokmin’s tip—already reddened and leaking.

“I’m simply building my credit.”

He leans down to swallow around Seokmin once more before he has the chance to say anything and it knocks the breath out of Seokmin’s chest. Thankfully the camera remains in his hand, otherwise Soonyoung might get a concussion first before he gets an orgasm.

“Fuck,” he curses when Soonyoung starts taking him as deep as he can go. “I’m close. Soon—” Soonyoung hums with his mouth full of Seokmin and he knows it’s fully intentional because of the effects the action has on him.

Seokmin comes in shortly after in hot bursts, his grip on the camera so tight he’s afraid he might snap a piece of it off. His attempts to not buck up into the wet heat of Soonyoung’s mouth enveloping his cock are understandably futile. Despite making a choking noise at one point, Soonyoung seems determined to let Seokmin use him to ride out the waves of pleasure.

“Up,” Seokmin grabs him by the upper arm, yanking Soonyoung from the floor onto his lap, “Up, up, _up_.”

Soonyoung laughs and kisses him deep, which should taste awful considering Seokmin’s just came down his throat, but the taste of sugar Seokmin finds on his lips from their first kiss still lingers; a stubborn flavour that overpowers the slight acidic tang coating his tongue and the rows of his teeth.

“Your turn to hold this,” Seokmin whispers as he pulls away, placing the camera in Soonyoung’s hands. “Don’t drop it on me,” he teases when a shiver rips through Soonyoung as the tip of Seokmin’s cock prods at his entrance.

Leaning in, Soonyoung bites at his earlobe. “I won’t.”

It would be unfair to ask Soonyoung to both hold the camera _and_ ride him when he can’t even leverage himself properly, so Seokmin takes it upon himself to lift Soonyoung’s body slightly. Just enough for him to get a good angle to slide right in.

“F-fuck,” Soonyoung swears. His curse tapers into a moan as he throws his head back, Seokmin moving his hips slowly, sending shallow thrusts into Soonyoung’s welcoming body without letting him go entirely.

“I, fucking hell,” Seokmin turns to gravity to help Soonyoung sink down on him this time, then waits for a few moments to let him adjust to the girth settling inside. “Please,” Soonyoung opens his eyes finally. “Seokmin.”

There it is again, the reverence dripping from Soonyoung’s call. He angles his face upward to kiss him, Soonyoung moving the camera out of the way to accommodate his silent request. Seokmin hears a faint sound in the background amidst their kiss, the source of which he can’t be bothered to analyse at the moment. The sound reveals itself to come from the camera being placed above his nightstand, because both of Soonyoung arms are now wrapped around his neck.

He’s moving more freely like this, Seokmin’s hands on his thighs now providing guidance more than they do support. Seokmin detaches from Soonyoung’s mouth to trail a path of open-mouthed kisses down the graceful slope of his neck, biting at the meeting point of Soonyoung’s prominent clavicles.

“You’re already hard again,” Soonyoung pants against his cheek, slightly damp from sweat. “I can feel you getting bigger inside me.”

“That’s all you.” Credit should be given where credit it due, right? "That's all you, Soonyoung."

Keening at the praise, Soonyoung tightens up around him and Seokmin growls into the crook of his neck, a sound that seemingly goes straight to Soonyoung’s own dick, twitching in between their bodies. Begging to be touched.

Heeding its desperate call Seokmin wraps his hand around the head and squeezes, Soonyoung’s taking a sharp inhale at the sudden increase of pressure. “‘m not gonna last much longer, shit.”

“Do you think the camera’s still recording?”

“Who cares,” he bounces more vigorously on Seokmin’s lap, chasing the climax of his pleasure, “we can do it again if the quality comes out poor.”

“Is that so?”

“Not tonight, though. I think I have to tap out after this.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Seokmin suggests softly, a heartbeat before he slams Soonyoung down on him. Soonyoung falls forward until his forehead is pressed against Seokmin’s shoulder, his body trembling from the anticipation of his orgasm. “After I make you breakfast in bed.” He starts stroking Soonyoung with more intent, wanting to at least even the score with him.

“I w-want to watch you cook.”

“Done.”

“Shirtless.”

Seokmin chuckles. “Why shirtless?”

“Stupid chef jacket,” he gestures to the floor where Seokmin’s work attire is strewn out haphazardly, discarded with so little respect considering how hard he worked to wear them in the first place. “Hides all your musc—”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because Seokmin’s thumb dips into his slit and when he moves it away Soonyoung spills white ribbons all over the two of them, breath hot at the junction between Seokmin’s neck and shoulder. Seokmin pumps him until there’s nothing left to be released, then he runs his hand up and down Soonyoung’s spine, index finger pressing gently into his spinal discs in hopes to alleviate some of the soreness. Turning his face to the right, Seokmin finds the camera peering at them curiously with its little black eye, so he tosses it a wide, triumphant grin.

It’s entirely performative gesture in nature, but who cares.

What they did just now is a performance worthy of an award, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> 11/12! we are officially nearing the end and this will be the last English-based fic in the series. i unfortunately had to miss out on [fireball fest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SeoksoonFireballFest2020/works) (check them seoksoon fics out! they’re _awesome_ ), so this is my redemption to myself and these two little rascals i love so much.


End file.
